


Black Satin and Lace

by mokuyoubi



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013)
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shaving, Spacedogs, Spacedogs Appreciation Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 00:35:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6064096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mokuyoubi/pseuds/mokuyoubi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam brings Nigel a pretty gift and asks him to wear it for him. Nigel maybe learns something about himself in the process.</p>
<p>These summaries for my spacedogs fics are super lame, but IDK what to tell you, what you see on the label is what you get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Satin and Lace

**Author's Note:**

> no actual porn in this, but who knows? Maybe I'll write it at some point. IDK, I've got so many other spacedogs/hannigram prompts floating around...

Besides Adam, Nigel has only ever had one serious relationship, and considering how spectacularly that one ended, he can hardly refer to it as successful. In retrospect, he can see that he had a hand in the downward spiral into destruction and oblivion that nearly resulted in Charlie’s death, and his own. 

Time and distance make it easier to admit. 

And having Adam with him, now.

Adam makes everything easier. Simpler. Adam doesn’t deal in any passive-aggressive double talk. Adam doesn’t play games. Adam doesn’t expect Nigel to read his fucking mind. Adam says what he wants and tells Nigel what he needs. 

Taking everything at face value puts his past and present into perspective. He doesn’t have to second guess Adam’s intentions or affection. It soothes out the snarled mess of Nigel’s insides, untangles and unwinds them and puts him at ease in Adam’s presence like he’s never been with another person. 

So when Adam asks him for something he’d normally be reluctant to give, Nigel can rest assured that it isn’t a trick. Adam isn’t asking to manipulate him, or cause him discomfort. It is genuine, naked desire, and nothing more.

Adam holds out the bag hopefully. Nigel eyes the white with crisp black lettering spelling out _Homme Intrigant_ , the delicate tissue paper designed to look like black lace peeking up from inside. And Adam would like him to wear the contents. Nigel takes the bag and parts the paper, catching a glimpse of _real_ black lace, satin, and silk. 

His mouth goes dry, but he very carefully keeps himself from thinking about anything at all as he draws out one piece of lingerie after another. Satin panties and corset in black, trimmed in lace, with dainty red bows on each hip, and matching lacing up the back of the corset. Black lace garter, black silk stockings with bands of lace in the same pattern at the thigh. They look roughly the right size for him, cut for a man’s body.

Nigel lays each one out on the bed beside him as he goes, the empty outline stark on the white of the comforter. When he swallows hard and finally musters the will to glance up, Adam’s face is eager, but restrained. He’s already bracing himself for Nigel’s refusal.

“I’d look a little absurd in these, don’t you think, darling?” He uses the petname to soften his words, keeps his tone low and even.

“I wouldn’t have bought them and asked you to wear them if I thought you’d look absurd,” A blush stains Adam’s cheeks as he adds, “I think it would be-- _you_ would be really, um.” He tucks his chin to his chest and rubs the back of his neck. “...hot.”

“Adam.” Nigel reaches up to cup his cheek and tug at one of his perfect, cherubic curls. “If either of us is suited to such lovely things, it’s you.”

Adam meets his gaze for a fleeting second, eyes wide, before darting up to his brow. “If you’d like that,” he says, “I’ll do it.”

Nigel lets out a long breath, fighting the urge to grimace. Adam says things like that, and makes it so fucking difficult to deny him anything. “Baby.” He drags his thumb over Adam’s soft lips, pulls him down for a slick kiss. 

Adam comes easily, mouth parting hot and eager, knees settling on the bed on either side of Nigel’s hips. Nigel splays his hand on the small of Adam’s back. His skin radiates heat even through the layer of his undershirt and button down. Nigel pecks gentle, close-mouthed kisses along his jaw, and goes right for the spot on Adam’s neck that makes him go boneless and breathless with pleasure.

“Do you--” Adam stops and whimpers when Nigel’s teeth close with just enough pressure to bruise. His hands come up to cup Nigel’s shoulders, fingers clenching tightly. “Will you wear it, Nigel?”

Nigel groans, draws his tongue over the red spot he’s left on Adam’s throat, and says, “I’m all covered in fur, darling. I doubt silk-matted hair is the look you’re hoping to achieve.”

Adam’s eyes are bright when he pulls away, leaning back on Nigel’s lap, just south of where Nigel wants him. “You could shave--I could help. I had a girlfriend who liked when I helped.”

Which is how Nigel finds himself in the bathtub, water milky with scented soap and shaving gel, hair floating on the surface. He knows, logically, that Adam wasn’t comparing him to past lovers to get a rise out of him, and the hair will grow back, which is what makes it easy to sink into the warm water and let Adam draw the razor up the line of his leg. From his ankle with long strokes along his shin and calf, going slower around the dips and jut of his knees, short sideways swipes along his inner thighs.

Nigel watches dispassionately, mostly concentrating on keeping his fingers from tightening on the rim of the tub. The skin left bared is paler than the rest of him, and pink from the heat. The razor is sharp but Adam is slow and methodical, and it isn’t much different from shaving himself, except that Nigel takes less care with himself than Adam. He almost feels detached from it, until Adam rinses away the suds and loose hairs, dragging his palm along the first long exposed patch and then he lets out a surprised huff. 

It isn’t particularly arousing, but neither is it a bad sensation. Much like the feel of fingertips dragging along bare skin, just skimming the surface. Vaguely tickling, leaving the skin overly sensitive. 

“Is it okay?” Adam asks, fingers stroking against the inside of his knee, which was never so ticklish before. Now Nigel has to fight the urge to kick his leg out in response to the touch.

There’s only a single stripe shaved, and Nigel can back out now. He knows that’s what Adam is offering here. He leans his head back against the rim of the tub, fingers itching for a cigarette, and nods his head. “Yeah, darling, it’s fine.”

The thing is, once Nigel gets past the initial strangeness of it, it’s actually kind of nice. Still not turning him on, but it’s relaxing. The warm water and Adam’s gentle touch, and the repetitive motions. It takes a while, and Nigel thinks a less determined person would have called it quits after the first time they had to empty and refill the tub, murky with hair. He has to hand it to the kid. Adam clearly knows what he wants.

They end up using three razors and half a can of the floral shaving foam Nigel nicked from the corner store just for the occasion, and once he’s kicked Adam out, he stands under the shower head to scrape soap scum and stray hairs from his body. He finds the odd patches on his legs that Adam’s missed and curses under his breath when he actually stumbles out of the tub in search of the razor to finish the job himself. 

If he’s doing this, he’s fucking doing this. No half-assed bullshit. He’s committed.

Adam is in the living room, giving Nigel his space. As with anything he’s ever asked of Nigel, Adam has made it explicitly clear it’s Nigel’s choice, and he’ll respect that. Oh sure he’ll pout and beg and bat those pretty lashes knowing full well the effect it has, but once there’s a firm no from Nigel, he accepts it. He’s out there waiting for Nigel to call him to bed, and he’ll go accept whatever he finds there. 

Maybe he’ll be a little disappointed, maybe his shoulders will drop and the corners of his mouth turn down, if Nigel decides not to wear his gifts. Maybe he’ll shrug off Nigel’s touch at first, or give him the silent treatment for the night, but Nigel understands it. A little time and patience and Adam will be back to his usual cheerful self (it takes less and less time for him to recover from his disappointment, the longer they’re together), and he won’t hold a grudge.

Nigel gets a little choked up just thinking about it, at times. It makes his eyes sting and his throat constrict, and painful line cutting through his chest, at how simple Adam’s love is. How unassuming. People have told Adam how difficult he is to care for, how much effort it takes to love him, and Nigel wants to find and disembowel each and every one of them, because there’s nothing easier in the world than loving Adam Raki.

So Nigel puts on the corset, fastening the hooks up the front. He has to stop halfway through, undo it all, and loosen the lacing to get it to fit around the broad span of his chest. But once he has it on and has adjusted it, he has to acknowledge, grudgingly, that it isn’t as horrifying as he thought. 

It’s been tailored to fit a man, the boning accentuating the curve of his waist and narrow set of his hips. A startling but not altogether unwelcome contrast to the slick, buttery material that feels luxurious against his skin. Each shift he makes causes the satin ribbon neckline to drag over his nipples, baring them if he twists or bends.

Same with the bikini briefs, designed with enough room for his dick, cut low on the sides, just under the v of his thighs. The elastic cuts into his asscheeks, threatening to slide up into his crack, but he’s kept his body in good shape, and the lace accents actually look hot over the curve of his ass. If nothing else, this whole fucking experiment gives Nigel a new appreciation of the shit women put up with in the name of looking sexy.

There’s a gap between top and bottom, a tease of skin and dusting of hair that looks a little ridiculous, especially with his shaved legs, but he’s drawing a line. There will be no shaving or waxing, or any of that bullshit elsewhere. It takes him roughly an age to figure out the garter with the dangling elastic bits and clips and hooks and eyes--which side is up and which is down, which bit goes in the front. He almost throws the fucking thing out the window, and fuck knows if it’s even on the right way, but Adam can deal with it.

And then the stockings. This, Nigel was unprepared for. It’s not like he’s never felt them before. Gabi was pretty simple when it came to lingerie, but she’d worn stockings onstage, and Nigel was fond of taking them off her. It’s an entirely different sensation against his recently shaved legs. The texture is so smooth, almost slippery, and with nothing to catch on, they glide easily along his skin in a most tantalising way. 

His dick stirs in interest, growing harder as he rolls them up his shin and over his knee. He can feel each little shift of silk as he tugs them into place, elastic holding them tight around mid-thigh. By the time he’s got them both on and has finished snapping them in place with the garter, his erection is straining almost comically against the satin panties. He palms himself, and the satin drags over his cock, eliciting a groan.

“Nigel?” Adam’s voice comes from right outside the door, and Nigel has to wonder how long he’s been out there. “Can I come in?”

Nigel stares at his reflection fro under the fall of hair over his forehead in his eyes. He studies the picture he makes, trying to figure out what about it would be appealing to Adam. None of it softens the masculine lines of his body--if anything he looks sharper and more angular. Dangerous. Nothing he ever would have expected.

Instead of responding, he goes to the door, hyper-aware of the way the stockings shift against one another and his skin as he moves. It’s discomfiting, how easily Nigel can imagine himself growing used to this.

Nigel opens the door and can almost _see_ Adam’s mouth going dry. His eyes widen and a blush spreads rapidly over his cheeks and down his throat. He swallows hard and licks his lips. His hand comes up but he stops himself short of touching and asks, “Can I?”

Nigel grins and dips his head, hand still braced on the door. “It’s your show, kid.”

“You look…” Adam trails off without finishing the thought, hand finally coming to rest on Nigel’s chest, palm flat between the boning of the corset. He gets momentarily distracted by the contrast in textures, fingers stroking back and forth over the satin and Nigel’s skin and a small noise escapes him. 

“Need an adjective here, darling,” Nigel teases.

Adam’s flush darkens and he smiles, one of those brilliant, open, purely pleased smiles that makes Nigel’s heart catch in his chest in disbelief. That he could be the cause of such happiness, that he could be deserving of it. What’s a little cross-dressing in the face of that?

“Sexy,” Adam says, and bites his lip. “Like something out of a porno.”

Nigel wraps an arm around his waist and drags him close, bending to kiss the line of his throat. “Well, you’d know,” he mutters, ignoring the way Adam whines his name and twists in embarrassment, trying to free himself. As if there’s anything left to be shy about, at this point. 

“Hey,” he says, playful, palming Adam’s ass and rolling their hips together, rutting in the groove of Adam’s hip. “Speaking of pornos, think any of your videos could give you some ideas about where to take it from here, babe?”

Adam stops struggling, hands flat against Nigel’s chest. His fingers toy with the greying curls, a thoughtful expression on his face. His other hand slides down to cup Nigel’s cock, drawing satin slick and tight. His thumb flicks over the growing wet spot there. “One or two,” he says, voice pitched low.

Nigel groans, rocking into his touch. “Yeah? Why don’t you share with the class?”

Adam runs his tongue back and forth across his teeth and tugs at the waistband on the panties. “I can show you,” he offers, and before Nigel can respond, he’s on his knees, mouth on Nigel’s cock through the panties. 

Here Nigel was thinking he couldn’t possibly divert any more blood in that direction, but apparently he was wrong. His dick jerks, straining against the damp material, Adam’s breath hot and moist, tongue drawing the shape of him. Adam’s hands wander, skimming down the outside of Nigel’s thighs, around the back of his calf and back up, the touch making Nigel squirm, hips bucking.

“Maybe we should take this to the bed,,” Nigel suggests, carding his fingers through Adam’s curls, when really he just wants to grab a fistful and go to town, fucking into that sweet mouth. All in due time.

Adam hums a vague agreement, but doesn’t let him go, pressing his tongue down hard and sucking the head between his lips, as much as he can with fabric pulled taut between them. “Baby.” Nigel gives a sharper tug, and Adam falls back on his heels, blinking up at him. A slow, truly devious grin curls his lips. 

“I think you’re enjoying this as much as I am, Nigel,” he says, fingers back on the waistband, slipping beneath to brush along sensitive skin, then out again, letting the elastic go with a snap against Nigel’s belly.

Nigel snags him by the wrist and puts his weight behind it, hauling Adam to his feet. Get’s a hand under his knee and brings it up over his hip, urging Adam up. He takes the hit and gives a little hop, slinging both legs around Nigel’s waist. Nigel slips his hands up the curve of his ass, easily holding him aloft.

“Let me show you just how much,” he purrs, carrying Adam to bed.


End file.
